


i smile with tears in my eyes

by flashlightinacave



Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24987589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashlightinacave/pseuds/flashlightinacave
Summary: She feels a hand curl into hers, skin soft, warm, and smooth against her own.Paxton, she thinks, peering up into eyes she expects to be a kaleidoscope of familiar luminescent colours: moss green, amber orange, copper brown.But instead, she finds she’s staring into an abyss of blue, rivalling the colours of irises, hydrangeas, and pansies. A melded blend of steely cobalt and the azure light waves scattered across the sky.Not Paxton, Ben.or; Ben drives Devi home from his party. It all explodes from there. (Diverges from 1.08.)
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Comments: 33
Kudos: 144





	i smile with tears in my eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HarmonizingSunsets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonizingSunsets/gifts).



> Wowwwww this really started out as just one scene where Ben drives Devi home from his party instead of Paxton and then it just SPIRALED, there's no better way to put it. 
> 
> I'm completely obsessed with these two and I've lost all word count control, but it's totally fine, I have nothing better to do with my time. 
> 
> Also, Devi and Ben bicker about astronomy in this one, which fun fact was what I thought I was gonna study when I was in like grade 8 (so 5 years ago?) until I discovered how much I hate physics, but anyway, astrobiology is something I'm still super knowledgeable of, so what better use for it than a fic? (I'm aware the answer is... everything, but you guys have read my works before and you know I'm a biology major, so science is always present. I'm unapologetic for that.)
> 
> I'm also gifting this fic to HarmonizingSunsets the author of one of my fave fics in the fandom, I hope that's not weird or anything. But seriously, y'all should go read "[A Gentle Kind of Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836575)" that fic is truly the Devi/Ben established relationship perfection we in no way deserved but got anyway and I just... adore it.
> 
> If you wanna chat about Never Have I Ever or Devi and Ben come hit me up on tumblr where I'm @montygreen!
> 
> Title comes from the MARINA song "Believe In Love"

She’s never had a good track record at parties, is the thing.

Her first, and only other, high school party, she’d been bitten by a coyote and incurred even more of the seemingly endless wrath of her mother.

At least that’s the explanation Devi gives herself for why she is currently treading water in Ben Gross’ pool, unable to pull herself up due to the weight of her dress, a chill coursing through her veins.

She feels a hand curl into hers, skin soft, warm, and smooth against her own.

 _Paxton_ , she thinks, peering up into eyes she expects to be a kaleidoscope of familiar luminescent colours: moss green, amber orange, copper brown. 

But instead, she finds she’s staring into an abyss of blue, rivalling the colours of irises, hydrangeas, and pansies. A melded blend of steely cobalt and the azure light waves scattered across the sky. 

_Not Paxton, Ben._

Devi grips his hand more tightly, allows him to pull her out of the pool, and turns over so she can sit on the edge. Her wet dress clings to her tightly and her ears are ringing. She tilts her head to the side trying to drain the water from her ears and surveys her surroundings. All her classmates have left, the area behind Ben’s house is deserted, empty. She’s almost thankful that Eleanor and Fabiola are both gone because as much as she wants to, desperately wants to, apologize to them right now, she can’t blame them for wanting a break from her drama.

(In all honesty, Devi wants a break from herself sometimes, she can’t blame others for feeling the same way.)

In her solitude, she notices she’s shivering, the night air cold and frigid against her skin. The wetness of her dress isn’t helping and she feels her teeth chatter.

The cold sensation is brief, for a second later, someone is draping a jacket over her shoulders. She notices the colour of the cloth first, a velvet ruby red, similar to the petals of a pure, perfect rose. She recognizes the jacket seconds later, it’s the one Ben was wearing earlier this evening. It’s a bit bulky on her shoulders, the fit slightly too large, but the fabric is soft against her skin. It’s comforting, familiar. 

She slips her arms through the sleeves, and finds their length fits her perfectly, she doesn’t even have to roll them up to pop out her hands. Despite the jacket presumably costing more than the sum of all of her clothing combined, it’s as though it is made for her.

Devi cranes her head and spots Ben standing beside her, without his jacket he’s left wearing only a black t-shirt. She studies his arms, tracing every prominent vein and his surprisingly defined biceps. For someone she constantly, mockingly refers to as skinny, Ben Gross is kinda jacked.

She snaps out of her reverie, whatever weird trance she’s in that has her ogling Ben Gross’ arms of all things — she wonders if the chlorine in the pool water has seeped into her blood and somehow damaged her brain — and notices that Ben is speaking.

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as if he’s nervous. The action takes Devi by slight surprise, she doesn’t know if she’s ever seen Ben seem so genuinely nervous before. “It’s cold and your dress is wet, maybe I could lend you something?” He extends a hand to her, it’s hesitant, inviting, _appealing_.

Before she quite registers what she’s agreeing to, Devi nods her head and takes Ben’s hand, letting him pull her to her feet. He leads her back inside and she notes that all of the party guests have left, the only evidence of their presence are empty grease-stained pizza boxes, crumpled paper plates, and beer cans littered on practically every surface. 

Ben leads her up the stairs, down a narrow winding hallway, and Devi is suddenly blown away by the sheer enormity of his house. Devi imagines that if she lived in a house this big, she’d still occasionally get lost. There’s no better adjective to describe his house — no, mansion might be a better word — than gargantuan, hauntingly large and lonesome. 

She’s once again caught off guard by the sheer bigness of Ben’s room and for a moment she wonders just how much of her entire house would fit inside.

Ben releases her hand to go rummage through his drawers and Devi finds she misses the contact. It doesn’t startle her the way it should, that she likes holding his hand, that she finds his grip steady and calming. She and Ben seem to be made for each other in all other ways, to be each other’s perfect rivals, to push each other’s buttons, and further to know which buttons to push. It makes sense that their hands might be made for each other too, designed to hold one another, fingers interlaced like two joined halves of a whole. 

These foreign thoughts about Ben have her contemplating if she might have brain damage, maybe she smacked her head when she fell and is concussed.

As Ben continues to search his drawers, Devi takes the time to study his room. His walls are a monotonous, boring, dull-white that contrasts the cyan aqua of her room. He has a poster for some obscure Andy Samberg movie taped above his bed, exposing his pretentiousness for all the world to see. Of course someone as snobby as him would have the poster for a more unknown Samberg project rather than _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ , which Devi and everyone else (except Ben) knows is superior. 

Devi continues looking around Ben’s room, looking for more ammunition for insults, when he hands her a hoodie, a pair of sweatpants, and a plastic bag. She notices Ben isn’t moving, he’s simply standing watching her. Devi smirks. “Are you going to watch me change, Gross?”

Ben’s cheeks flush. “No, of course not!” he yelps out before he regains his composure. “You can just change in the ensuite.”

Devi rolls her eyes because of course Ben Gross has a private bathroom attached to his bedroom. She gratefully accepts the sweatshirt and sweatpants and steps into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

She slips off Ben’s red jacket first, folds it into a neat pile and places it on the toilet seat. She then fumbles with the zipper on the back of her dress before tearing it off, hoping she hasn’t done any damage. She notes that her bra and underwear are also soaked and while she hesitates to take them off, she eventually does, resolving that wearing anything wet defeats the purpose of dry clothes in the first place.

She throws Ben’s hoodie over her head next. Just like his red jacket, it fits her snuggly and she buries her nose in the fabric. It smells like sandalwood mixed with a scent that she can’t quite describe but knows is undeniably him. The scent comforts her, soothing her frazzled nerves. She slips on the sweatpants next, tosses her clothing in the plastic bag, and steps out the bathroom.

She spots Ben sitting on his bed, hands folded in his lap, staring ahead. She takes a seat next to him and fails to suppress a snort when she notices what he’s looking at.

Ben turns to her suddenly, seeming tense. His jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are knit with caution, trepidation. His cheeks are slightly flushed and when his blue eyes meet hers Devi finds the only word she can use to describe his gaze is soulful. “What?”

Devi could tell him nothing, attribute her laughter to nerves and nothing more, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her right now that makes her feel seen, makes her feel like being honest. She laughs again. “You kept our pact.”

Ben nods in affirmation. “I did.”

“No wonder you were so mad when I came on the Model UN trip.”

Ben smiles and bashfully ducks his head before looking back at her, blue eyes brilliant and gorgeous. (And why the fuck is she suddenly so obsessed with his eyes?) “Honestly? It was probably one of the best Model UN trips I’ve been on, I meant it when I said we made a good team.” His shy smile shifts to one that’s smug, sly. “Until you nuked me, of course.”

Devi feels her cheeks warm, humiliatingly enough. She hears Ben clear his throat. “By the way, why did you do that?”

“Why did I nuke you?”

Ben nods his head. 

Devi sharply inhales. “I don’t know.” She wrings her hands in her lap. “ Paxton found out about my lie and I guess it was easier to blame you than myself.”

“You do have quite the temper, David,” Ben says, but he’s smiling — it’s soft and gentle rather than that smug infuriating smirk she’s all too familiar with — and Devi can tell his words have no malice.

Against all her better judgement, Devi laughs. She doesn’t quite have an explanation for it, it’s not as though Ben said anything funny, not in the slightest. He’s just said something she’s heard countless other times, from countless other people.

A beat passes between them, then. 

“Ben, I’m really sorry I ruined your party.”

He shakes his head. “You didn’t ruin it.”

“I definitely did. I got into that huge fight with my friends, I toppled into your pool, I—’”

“David.” His voice is soft, slightly concerned.

“I did the same thing I always do, I turned something that was supposed to be all about you into something all about me and I honestly don’t understand why you’re—”

“Devi.”

It’s uncanny, Devi thinks. Her life has become the opposite of what it should be. The people who are usually there for her (Eleanor, Fabiola) want nothing to do with her and the person she always considered her greatest adversary — the person she’s countless times referred to as her arch-nemesis — is supporting her in more ways than she can count. She abruptly turns to Ben. “Why are you being so nice to me right now?”

“You were nice to me when I was vulnerable.” Ben shrugs his shoulders, trying to express non-committance that Devi is certain he doesn’t feel. “I felt owed you the same courtesy.” He chuckles, the sound warm, melodious. “I don’t think anyone who came to this party even remembered it was my birthday. They all just thought it was your typical high school rager. Not even Shira remembered to get me a present, not that I’m deserving of one anyway.”

It makes Devi feel sad, that Ben doesn’t think he deserves more, that he just takes the crap he gets and thinks of it as enough. Devi contemplates the thought for a second, but decides against bringing it up.

“How did none of them know it was your birthday, you literally had a giant birthday cake shaped like your head?” She tilts her head to the side. “It was kind of terrifying, by the way.”

Ben grins widely. It’s the same grin that makes Devi forget that they’re supposed to be rivals for a split second, the grin that makes her wish they could be allies more often. “David, I don’t know what you expected from our classmates, you saw the presentations they threw together for Mr. Shapiro’s app project.”

“Oh my god! Do you want to hear what Trent’s first proposal for our project was?”

Ben raises his eyebrows.

“He suggested an app that turns your phone into a gun.”

Ben crows another laugh and, god, Devi resolves to be nice and joke around with him more often if she can make him laugh like that.

She’s suddenly transported back to that scene in her mother’s kitchen a few weeks back, laughing merrily with Ben for the first time. Laughing with him last time helped her realize she liked being friendly with him. Laughing with him today makes her question whether she might want more.

“I’m assuming you came with the final project idea then?” Ben says, cocking his head.

Devi whacks him, playfully. “Duh, what else were you thinking?”

Ben wiggles his eyebrows and smirks at her. “I don’t know. Maybe the whole thing was secretly Paxton’s idea.”

The mention of Paxton’s name stings just a bit. She knows it’s not his fault, not at all, but Devi can’t help but feel a bit angry that her obsession with Paxton is what tore her from her friends.

Before she can stew with the thought too long, a realization smacks her in the chest and she involuntarily jerks forward. “Shit!”

Ben glances at her in alarm, his eyebrows raised. “What’s wrong?”

Devi glances around the room frantically. “What time is it?”

Ben slips his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. “Quarter to 11, why?”

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._ “Fuck!” Devi yells abruptly standing up. “My mom is going to kill me if I’m not home by 11!”

“Devi.” She’s surprised to feel Ben’s hand on her arm and further surprised when she doesn’t immediately recoil. “It’s okay, I’ll drive you home.”

“But you’re drunk! You said so earlier!” 

Ben shakes his head. “I’m not drunk.”

“But you said you’d drank too much of Trent’s ball punch, that’s why you said you—” she can’t even get the words out, but she knows Ben understands what she’s referring to.

Ben runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat. “I lied. I only had one sip of the stuff, it certainly wouldn’t have been enough to make me drunk or anything.”

Devi blinks repeatedly, trying to process this new information. “Then why did you try to… you know?” She hates that she feels too awkward and squirmy to say the word. It’s just a four-letter word, not one that’s all that significant.

She hears Ben let out a long sigh, a combination of weary and nervous. She turns back to notice his eyes are on her, that he’s looking at her as if she’s a singularity, something infinite he could get lost in forever. Devi doesn’t think she’d mind if he did, she likes the blue of Ben’s eyes, likes that they rival the Danube river in their hue. 

Devi notes that his cheeks are slightly flushed, not in a significant way, but the difference is apparent, at least to her. She watches hesitation flit across his expression, then he shrugs. “You were pretty and I finally realized something everyone else has known for a long time.”

“Oh.”

It should be more significant, the fact that Ben, who's been her nemesis since childhood, has just admitted to having a crush on her. It should be shocking, surprising, a game-changing revelation of sorts. But instead, his confession — if it can even be called that — feels expected and inevitable. It’s as though the idea that Ben Gross has romantic feelings for her is something she’s already accepted and compartmentalized. It’s as though she’s known all along. 

She kind of likes the idea — Ben Gross pining after her like she’s a character in some kind of rom-com — it makes her feel cool. Popular. 

Shit, she realizes, Ben is still speaking or rambling more accurately. “—I’m sorry if that makes things weird or awkward between us, but I feel like driving you home is the very least I can do after making such an ass of myself.” He grabs his car keys from a bowl resting on his bookshelf and steps toward the door, gesturing for her to follow. 

They make their way down the stairs and out the door towards Ben’s car. Devi doesn’t speak again until she’s hopped into the passenger seat, her seatbelt buckled, and Ben is starting the car. “I mean it was pretty obvious, you know?”

“Sorry?” He shifts the car into drive and maneuvers his way onto the road.

“Your crush on me, you were never the best at hiding it.” Devi tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I always knew you were obsessed with me, Gross,” she quips with a smug smirk.

She hears Ben chuckle, clearly appreciating her attempt to lighten the atmosphere between them and steals a glance at him. He’s rather attractive, illuminated by the city lights. His blue eyes are alluring and bright, his expression is one of confidence and control. His fingers flex on the steering wheel and for an errant moment, Devi wishes they were flexing on her skin instead, but she pushes the thought away.

At one point during the ride, she feels Ben’s eyes on her and turns to meet his gaze. He has a soft smile playing at his lips and while in most circumstances, Devi would use this opportunity to berate Ben for not keeping his eyes on the road, something — she isn’t sure what — stops her. Perhaps, it’s the emotion in his eyes, an amalgam of affection and fondness and adoration. Perhaps it’s the way he’s smiling, not the grin she first saw him wear at Model UN, but something softer, warmer, more muted. It still has the same capacity to make her stomach somersault.

Ben parks his car in front of her house after what feels like nearly an eternity. Devi is tempted to hop out of his car without even a word of thanks and run inside her house. Instead, she doesn’t, she steels her nerves and turns to face him. “Thanks for getting me home and for the clothes.”

Ben nods his head. “Of course.”

He shifts forward slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Devi feels her breath catch as his thumb lingers on the underside of her jaw, caressing it gently. She wonders, for a brief moment, if Ben Gross is about to attempt to kiss her for the third time that night and more shockingly realizes she wouldn’t mind. She’d probably even kiss him back.

The moment is over a second later when Ben pulls back, returning his hands to the steering wheel. He clears his throat. “Goodnight, Devi.”

Desperate to lighten the tension, Devi bumps her shoulder against his before she reaches for the car door. “Goodnight, Ben.”

She grabs the plastic baggy containing her still wet clothes and leaps out of his car before she can do something stupid.

* * *

She knows asking Ben to move in is an objectively a horrible idea.

She and Ben hate each other, they always have. Or they have since the first grade, which is as long as far back as she can remember in her academic career anyway. 

Okay, perhaps hate is the wrong word for it, there’s certainly been less fire to their fighting since the day her mom invited him for her dinner, the day she’d laughed with him in the kitchen, until her chest ached, her eyes glistening with the happiest kind of tears. You don’t laugh that much with someone you hate. You might laugh _at_ them that much, sure, but not _with_ them and Devi was definitely laughing with Ben.

Then there’s the further complication of what he’d told her before he drove her home from his party and what she’s started to realize as a result. 

But there’s nowhere else to turn, Eleanor and Fabiola still aren’t speaking to her and it would be psycho to burden Paxton with her problems. She can’t be at home right now, not after that fight with her mom, not after that terrible, dreadful thing she said that just thinking about makes her feel queasy.

Besides it’s Ben, she’s slowly started to realize that he’s always been there for her, there’s no reason he can’t be there for her now, right?

She watches Ben at his locker for a second and takes a deep breath. Then another. “Hey, Ben.”

He immediately turns to her, pausing whatever task he’s in the middle of.

“This is going to sound a little crazy—”

“Everything you say sounds a little crazy, David, it’s not as though you can—”

“Can I move in with you?”

As she watches Ben’s mouth fall open and a million emotions flash over his face her subconscious begins to scream _abort, abort, abort_!

Perhaps if she grovels enough to Eleanor and Fabiola she can earn their forgiveness and convince at least one of them to help her. Perhaps asking Paxton wouldn’t be that psycho, she knows she’d have the support of Rebecca. Perhaps she can find literally anyone else who would be willing to—

“Yes.”

_Wait, what?_

Devi feels a smile break out over her face, one that’s cautious and hopeful. Her voice is whisper soft.

“For real?”

Ben smiles softly at her, it’s similar to the smile he gave her in his car when she thought he might— 

Nevermind that.

“David, you wouldn’t be turning to me if you weren’t desperate, so of course I’ll help.”

Devi’s resulting grin splits her face open and she resists a mounting desire to hug Ben ridiculously tightly.

* * *

There are three main things Devi loves about living at Ben’s house.

  1. His family buys the softest toilet paper, it’s so much better than the one-ply trash her mom is obsessed with for the sake of saving money.
  2. The bathroom attached to the guest room she’s staying in has a freaking TV in it. This means she'll sometimes rewatch a treasured episode of _The Good Place_ or _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ as she brushes out her hair or applies her makeup. (So what if when she laughs she sometimes smudges her mascara? As far as Devi is concerned, it’s worth it.)
  3. His family lets her run the dishwasher. When Devi asked Patty if she could use the dishwasher both Patty and Ben shot her incredulous looks, but it’s forbidden in her household and with the new exhilarating freedom of living with Ben, something she’s always wanted to try.



(An addendum to this list is living with Ben himself, of course, he’s a surprisingly good companion for breakfast and dinner and while every meal is filled with constant bickering, he never fails to make her laugh.)

Washing dishes together has become somewhat of a routine for them and Devi still gets a little (irrationally, Ben claims) excited about using the dishwasher.

He lets her take joy in it and load the dishwasher — eyes lighting up every time she plays with the settings — and takes the less enjoyable task lathering each dish with soap.

The soap smells floral, like a blend of lavender, lemon, and honey and Devi smells it wafting towards her as she fiddles with the dishwasher settings. 

“David,” Ben drawls out the nickname and passes her a plate. “After four days of using my dishwasher, you should know the settings, you’re acting like the confused alien in _E.T._ ”

Devi takes the dish from him and bends down to place it next to the other plates. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who thinks aliens like the one in _E.T_ actually exist, Gross.”

She can’t see Ben right now, but she can practically hear the smirk in his voice, his ego dripping into his words. “Not like the one in _E.T_ , no, but you’d be foolish to say that there’s no form of extraterrestrial life in our galaxy.”

Devi stands up and places a hand on her hip, turning more directly to face Ben. “Go on.”

“Think about it, David,” Ben says as he scrubs a large pot. “Our universe is ridiculously large and thanks to the presence of dark energy, continuously expanding.” He laughs, slightly mockingly. “The probability of our planet being the only one with intelligent life in the universe, or even just in the Milky Way, is statistically infinitesimal.”

Ben passes her the pot and Devi places it into the dishwasher. “I agree, it’s very unlikely that Earth is the only planet with intelligent life, there’s a high probability of the existence of countless intelligent civilizations, but what about the Fermi Paradox? If there’s other intelligent life out there, why haven’t they contacted us?”

Ben turns off the tap to prevent the sink from overflowing. “Well, there are several attempts to explain that paradox, David,” Ben says, as he washes some remaining pieces of silverware. “The main argument is that intelligent civilizations don’t last very long. I mean think about it, the Big Bang occurred 13 billion years ago, anatomically modern humans have only existed for 200,000 years, human civilization evolved only 6,000 years ago, and industrialization only occurred in the 1800s. It’s perfectly possible that intelligent societies have existed and tried to contact Earth, but we’ve never coexisted.”

“Ben.” She clicks her tongue and his name comes out in a whine. “The universe is huge, the idea that we’ve never existed at the same time as another intelligent civilization is impossible.”

Ben taps his chin in contemplation. “Well, there is another explanation for the Fermi Paradox?”

“Which is?”

“We’re just not all that interesting.”

Devi snorts at that, rolling her eyes.

“I’m being serious. We’re no more special than any other intelligent civilization, why would anyone want to contact us? The number of resources it would take for an alien civilization to reach us would be unattainable. We humans just think we’re special due to our crazy inflated egos.”

“Believe me, no one’s ego is more inflated than yours, Gross.”

Ben chuckles and Devi realizes she loves his laugh, especially the dimples that appear in his cheeks. She loves it, even more, when she insights it.

“We’re also restricting our discussion to just intelligent life,” Ben adds, “we’re neglecting the possibility of extremophiles living on other planets or moons.” Devi turns to Ben and notices his expression has changed from dim to bright, his eyes alight and somehow an even more vibrant blue.

“Tell me about that.”

Ben knits his brow in confusion and Devi has a strange feeling she’s done something wrong. 

She stuffs her hands in her pockets and worries her lip. “I don’t know, you just seemed excited about it, so I want you to tell me about it.”

Suddenly, Ben breaks out one of his big genuine ‘Ben smiles’ — the type of grin that splits his face wide open and reminds her of a golden retriever — and Devi realizes she’s said the right thing.

“Well, extremophiles live under various insane circumstances. Acidophiles thrive in acidic conditions, halophiles that tolerate high levels of salt, xerophiles that live in extremely dry conditions, radiophiles that live under intense radiation including ultraviolet and nuclear radiation—”

What should have been obvious strikes Devi then and there: Ben Gross is attractive when he’s passionate. The blue in his eyes gleams brighter and he can’t seem to stop smiling as he talks. He’s like a flower that’s finally blooming more fully in the presence of sunlight, a morning glory.

“— one of the most promising locations in our solar system is Jupiter’s moon Europa, it’s entire surface is made up of ice and scientists are certain there’s an entire ocean, probably brimming with life underneath. Then there’s Saturn’s moon Titan that has oceans of methane that could support—”

Devi interrupts him by reaching her hand into the sink and splash a handful of soapy water in his direction. Most of the water misses him, but a dollop of soap ends up lingering on his nose. “Hey!” Ben whines, but Devi can tell he’s still happy, his eyes are crinkled and his lips are pulled up in a smile.

“Let me get that for you.” Devi reaches out and swipes the drop of soap off of his nose with her thumb. 

Her eyes dart to his lips and she wonders if they’re as soft as they look, how they would feel pressed against hers. A split second later, Devi snaps out of it, returning her gaze to his slightly wide eyes.

Devi clears her throat and stares at the ground, suddenly unable to meet Ben’s eyes. “Do you wanna, watch a movie or TV or something?”

“Well, I let you pick for the last few days, so today it’s my turn.”

Devi looks back up at Ben, her nerves dissipating. “What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking _What We Do In The Shadows_.”

Devi barks out a laugh. “A show about vampires, Ben, really?”

“It’s a hilarious piece of quality television!”

“Well, at least you’re not making us watch _Rick and Morty_.”

“ _Rick and Morty_ is both one of the smartest and dumbest shows on television, David! It’s a delight!”

“Emphasis on the dumbest part,” Devi retorts, though she can’t keep a stupid smile off her face.

“How can you mock my television tastes?” Ben shoots back, though he’s smiling brightly. “You watch _Riverdale_.”

“I watch it so I can make fun of it, Ben, god!”

“Well, I get enough ammunition to make fun of it by watching someone else mock it on Youtube.” He taps his temple and smirks. “It preserves my brain cells.”

“Sorry, I forgot, you’re already lacking in brain cells, you wouldn’t want to jeopardize the half one you have,” Devi says mockingly, but her words have no bite.

Ben laughs again, his eyes crinkling with mirth. He reaches for her, but then stops himself, pulling his hand away. 

(She wishes he hadn’t pulled away, she wishes he had taken her hand.)

She stuffs her hands in her pockets as they walk over to his theatre room and take the exact two seats they sat in at his party.

As Ben queues up the show on an iPad, Devi turns to look at him and wishes she was a little bolder, a little braver, a little more certain.

* * *

Devi grows a bit braver, but not by all that much, a day later.

She and Ben are sitting in his backyard, studying for a chemistry test by quizzing one another on organic nomenclature. They show each other flashcards with complex molecules drawn on them and identify the functional groups and name the molecule.

Devi pulls a random card from the pile and shows it to Ben. He rubs his temple in concentration and ponders the question. “Come on, Gross, you should know this. Is your half brain cell not functioning?”

Ben ignores her dig and furrows his brow in concentration. “I know there’s an alcohol.” He sways his head back and forth before snapping his fingers. “It’s 3,3-diethyl-4-methyl-octan-2-ol.”

Devi flips over the flashcard and nods her head. “You’re right, obviously.” She shoves the stack of flashcards towards him. “Quiz me.”

Ben laughs, grabbing the stack of cue cards.

As Ben pulls a random card from the middle and shows it to her, Devi shivers. She belatedly realizes she should have grabbed one of her jackets, but before she can stand up and tell Ben she’s going to grab something warmer to wear, he’s already tossing her his sweater.

Devi throws the hoodie over her head and notices it smells like him and it warms her to her core. “Thanks.” She rolls up the sleeves to better fit her arms. “I wasn’t that cold, by the way.”

Ben smirks. “I get it, David, you pretended to be cold because you wanted a hoodie from an actual boutique.” He cocks his head and his voice drops an octave lower. “I can’t say I blame you, Balenciaga is soft.”

His cornflower-blue eyes have this mischievous glimmer and there’s something so quintessentially Ben about him teasing her as he takes care of her.

It’s what pushes her to be a little bit braver.

Before she can cower away, before she even knows what she’s doing in all honesty, she’s leaning forward and kissing him.

There’s no better way to describe the sensation than soft. 

His lips against hers, the skin where she cups his cheek, the hair at the nape of his neck are all soft. Maybe it’s the sheer impossibility of it or the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, but Devi pulls away, breaking the kiss almost as impulsively as she initiated it.

“Holy fuck,” she mumbles, meeting Ben’s eyes, his pupils are wide and dark and he’s staring at her mouth. (Subtly has never been his strong suit.) “I just did that.”

“David.”

“Oh my god, that was weird.”

His voice comes out quieter this time. “Devi.”

Something about the softness of his voice makes her breath quicken and her heart race, it makes her more nervous than before. She shakes her head. “Fuck, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that and—”

Ben cuts her off, surging forward, bracketing her face in his hands, and kisses her. She’s caught off guard for only a fraction of a second before her brain kicks into gear and she begins to kiss him back. She tugs him close by the collar of his shirt until they’re flush against each other. And this shouldn’t be possible, right? She shouldn’t be kissing Ben Gross and liking it this much. Except she is, and it’s fantastic because Ben Gross is a spectacular kisser. She knows it goes against physics, the very laws of thermodynamics, but she swears that as they sit kissing in his backyard, the entropy of the universe decreases, order is restored, and everything falls perfectly into place.

Chaos always has a way of rearing its ugly head, though.

While Devi may be a bit braver, a bit more certain, today, it’s not enough confidence to feel confident with what she’s just done.

In fact, the thought running through her head is _What the hell has she just done?_

She pulls away from him, sharply as if she’s been stung. She blinks a few times she tries to collect her thoughts.

She really should not have done that.

Like really shouldn’t have.

There’s the whole Paxton complication, for starters, because that’s who she really likes, isn’t it? Paxton with his chiselled jawline and accentuated abs, who resembles a Greek God more than a man. Paxton who didn’t tell the entire school about her lie, when Ben was the one who (unintentionally, he didn’t know anyone else was on that Model UN bus) spread that lie in the first place. Paxton who hasn’t spoken to her since she helped Rebecca with the photoshoot and probably realized what a chaotic mess she is after watching her topple into the pool at Ben’s birthday party.

Or maybe it’s none of those reasons at all. Perhaps the reason she’s so drawn to Paxton, finds it easier to like him, to want to be with him is this: she knows he’s going to flake. She knows there’s more to Paxton than on the surface, but at the end of the day, she knows he will break her heart. She can prepare for that inevitability, she can accept that he’ll be there, until eventually, he won’t, not for any fault of her own, but simply because high school romances don’t last.

The same is not true with Ben. He’s been an integral part of her life for long as she can remember. Since the first grade, he has pushed her, and competed with her, and forced her to be her best self, academically speaking. Even after her dad’s death, when everyone else was walking on eggshells, treating her like a porcelain doll, Ben never pitied her. He always treated her as an equal. 

Even now, when she had no place to turn, he’d been here for her. He’d offered her a place to live, someone to talk to, not pushed her to say or do anything she didn’t want. Devi knows that no one has ever put Ben Gross first, he’s always ignored and rejected by those who he offers his heart to, and yet here he is offering insurmountable kindness to her.

That’s why the possibility of having feelings for Ben scares her so damn much because romance is fragile and flimsy and temporary. Romantic relationships are like flowers, they bloom and grow and thrive, but like all mortal things, they eventually wilt, wasting away into nothingness.

Ben is a constant in her life and has always that: invariable, immutable, unchanging. Constant. She can’t bear the thought of losing that, of losing him. 

She can’t take the risk, she won’t take the risk.

Devi snaps back into the focus at the sound of Ben’s voice. “Are you okay?” The blue orbs that are his eyes are wide with concern.

“Yeah!” Devi answers with a jerk of her head. “I’m good!” 

Ben narrows his eyes at her in suspicion. “Devi,” her name emerges as a sigh and he rubs his temple. “Can we talk about what just happened—?”

“Nope, we don’t need to do that.” She gives a wry laugh. “Why would we need to do that? What I need to do is study for this test, so I can beat you tomorrow.”

She stands up and brushes herself off then runs a hand through her hair to smooth it out. “I’ll see you at dinner, Ben.”

She turns away from him and steps back into his house, running up to her room as fast as her legs can carry her, wondering why she so consistently can colossally fuck things up.

* * *

She and Ben haven’t talked about the kiss. 

There’s no real reason to, they’ve bounced back from the initial awkwardness reasonably well and to Devi that indicates that he thinks of it the same way she does: as a mistake. (Her conscience constantly reminds her that it was not a mistake, that Ben is not addressing it because he is yet again putting her needs first.)

It doesn’t matter now, she has bigger things to deal with.

Right now, that involves emancipating herself from her mother which requires a steady income and financial independence. Luckily, Devi knows who to phone and Rebecca picks up on the second ring.

“Devi! I’m so glad you called!”

Devi feels a surge of elation that Rebecca is excited to hear from her. “Me too! How did the application for fashion school turn out?”

“Pretty well. You killed it as a model!”

“Yeah, only because your clothes were fire!”

“We don’t hear back about our application status for a couple of weeks,” Rebecca says and Devi can hear the nervousness in her voice.

“You’re going to get in,” Devi reassures her because she is confident that one day Rebecca Hall-Yoshida is going to be a famous designer. “You’re gonna be like Yves St. Laurent, but way cuter.”

She hears Rebecca’s chuckle through the phone. “So how have things been for you lately?”

Devi chews her lip. “That’s actually why I was calling, I was hoping you could get me a job at Old Navy.”

Becca’s tone is incredulous. “You want to work at Old Navy?”

“Yeah, I’ve recently realized I need to achieve some financial independence and getting a retail job sounds like a good start.”

She hears Rebecca hum and ha for a moment before she finally says, “I’ll try to convince my manager. It’d be pretty awesome if we got to work together.”

Devi feels a grin break out across her face and pumps her fist in the air. “It would be awesome.”

“You haven’t been around here with Paxton for a little while.”

Devi sighs, flopping down on the bed in Ben’s guest room. “Yeah, we haven’t spoken much since your photoshoot.”

“Oh.” A beat. “I always knew you were too good for him.”

Devi chuckles. “Yeah,” she agrees, “yeah.”

“So...” Devi hears Rebecca drawl out the ‘o’ in the word longer than necessary. “Are there any boys you are interested in?”

Devi snorts. “The only boy in my life is Ben Gross and he is certifiably the worst.”

She can practically hear Rebecca’s eyebrow raise through the phone. “Oh?”

Devi huffs a deep breath. “He’s just always there, you know? In all my classes, pushing me to work as hard as I can, giving that stupidly infuriating smirk every time he beats me by a margin of a point on a test or assignment and it’s fucking annoying. Worse, he never even reacts when I beat him! He just looks calm and collected and stoic and it’s so annoying!” She grunts in frustration. “You want to know why else he sucks? Because he was there for me when no one else was and he dropped everything and put me first! After all that, he still doesn’t think he deserves more than neglectful parents and a shitty girlfriend he only recently broke up with and it’s infuriating!”

“Oh, I get it.” She can hear the smirk in Rebecca’s voice and it makes her roll her eyes. “You like him.”

Devi scoffs. “What? No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Becca, you’re being ridiculous, I don’t like Ben!”

“Devi, you called him annoying twice, said he sucks, and that he’s infuriating, then proceeded to go on a tangent about how he’s always there for you. You definitely like him.”

“I do not like Ben!” Devi protests, tossing a decorative pillow from the bed across the room. “There are way more things I hate about Ben than like about him!”

“Like what?”

“Easy, his stupid collared shirts that make him look like a miniature business major, his million pairs of sneakers that never match his clothing, his fashion sense is honestly that of a third-grader. Then, there’s the way he always corrects me the very few times I’ve messed up in class and quips something about ‘it’s not hard to memorize seven facts, David.’ He’s the only one who still calls me David, he’s been doing it since our homeroom teacher accidentally called me that in the first grade. When he calls me that name he always sounds this weird mixture of exasperated and snarky and fond. Then, there’s the way his big dumb grin makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside — and makes his blue eyes glint — and forget, for a split second, the lesson we just learned in class. His blue eyes, too, they’re this indescribable combination of sapphire and topaz. There’s the way he’s kind to his house manager and other members of the service industry like waiters, which my mom always says is a good sign of character. And he has this annoying way of understanding me better than anyone else and is a surprisingly good listener. And, oh fuck—”

She doesn’t say the words, but they ring loud and clear in her consciousness. _I like Ben._

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ “Fuck, oh my god, I need to go, bye Rebecca!”

Before she hears a response, Devi hits the end call button. She lets out a colossal groan and crawls into the bed, burying herself under the covers.

* * *

Devi doesn’t have time to deal with the emotional fallout of that realization until a few days later. 

She’s returned to living at home, surrounded by her cerulean walls rather than the white of Ben’s guest room. Since she and her mother spread her father’s ashes on Malibu beach, they’ve been trying to be more open and honest with one another. It’s a work in progress, Devi knows, but they’re getting there.

Her mother isn’t the only person she needs to make an effort to be more honest with, however.

She owes a fuck ton of honesty to Ben as well.

Ben who gave her a place to stay when she had nowhere to go, who brought her friends when he knew he couldn’t change her mind on his own, who risked his life to get her to Malibu, who’d stayed. And who, even though she kissed him, hadn’t pushed or forced her to talk about it. She was an unstoppable force (confusion, denial, uncertainty) coming into contact with an immovable object (Ben’s unwavering constancy) and neither of them seemed to have any sway in this grand tug of war.

Devi is certain she’s chewed her lip raw the past few days just thinking about seeing Ben again, having this much-needed conversation with him. She rings the doorbell and practically bounces up and down on her heels as she waits.

When the door finally swings open, she lets out a shaky breath and finds she’s staring into a familiar abyss of blue. 

She’s often thought she could easily drown in the deep blue ocean of Ben’s eyes and here she is doing just that, his pupils like a black hole sucking her in with no chance of escape.

The clearing of a throat brings her back to reality. Devi blinks a few times trying to regain composure. “Are you going to come in?” Ben asks.

“Yeah,” Devi answers with a jerky nod. Ben steps aside and she crosses the threshold into his house, immediately making her way upstairs towards the guest bedroom. She nearly gets lost along the way, because fuck even after living here for an entire week, Ben’s house is huge, but eventually makes it the Doobie Brother’s themed guestroom.

There isn’t a ton of stuff because she left home in haste, but it's enough that Devi takes her time packing. 

She takes hangers out of the closet and folds her shirts and sweaters into perfect squares, filling her duffle bag. The last thing she pulls out of the closet is a hanger with his sweatshirt, the one he gave her right before she leaned over and— 

She’s surprised he never bothered to take it back, she hasn’t been in this room for three days. 

She pulls the sweatshirt off the hanger and presses it to her nose, inhaling the scent.

It smells like sandalwood and sweat, the combination comforting. Familiar.

“You really like Balenciaga, don’t you, David?”

She looks up to find Ben standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, typical smug smirk on his face. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised, that sweatshirt probably cost more than your entire wardrobe.”

Devi wonders for a brief moment if Ben has been standing in the doorway watching her pack the entire time. The thought makes her feel slightly uneasy, but instead of bringing it up, she quips, “you’re right, I, unlike you, know how to spend my money wisely.”

Ben huffs a laugh at that, ducking his head and looking back up at her with a radiant, beaming smile.

Devi folds Ben’s sweatshirt into a neat little bundle and steps towards him. “I’m surprised you didn’t take this back,” she says, passing the bundle to Ben only for him to immediately push it back to her.

“Keep it.”

Devi blinks a few times trying to regain her composure. “What?”

“Keep the sweatshirt, it’s practically yours anyway.” He cocks his head. “Besides, I have like six of those.”

Devi throws the sweater on immediately relishing the comfort it brings her. “Thank you.”

Ben smiles at her again, not his arrogant trademarked smirk, but the softer muted smile she’s becoming more familiar with. “Of course.”

Devi feels a lump building in her throat, this is the moment, she has to take the plunge. She takes a step closer to him. “Not just for the sweater.”

She takes a deep breath steeling her nerves. “For everything.” She reaches for his hand and takes it in her own. “You were there for me when no one else was.” She interlaces her fingers with his. “I appreciate you so much.”

She grips his hand tighter. “And about what happened…” she pauses trying to find the right way to articulate herself, frustrated she still can’t bring herself to say the word. “We don’t have to talk about it, we can just put it behind us.”

She watches, something — perhaps sadness, disappointment? — she doesn’t quite know what it is, flicker through Ben’s eyes. “Is that what you want?”

Devi contemplates saying yes, dropping this conversation and his hand that she is gripping with increasing force now and forever, but then she remembers that she owes him honesty. “No,” she admits, peering up at him through her eyelashes. “It’s not.”

Ben doesn’t say anything and from his silence, Devi knows she needs to lead this conversation. “I’m sorry.”

Ben frowns and lets his hand slip from hers. “Sorry it happened—?”

He doesn’t have to say what “it” means, Devi knows he’s talking about the kiss. “Not sorry it happened, no.” She surges her hand forward to catch his. “Sorry I ran away.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know you were going through—”

Devi aggressively shakes her head. “No, no.” She tightens her grip on his hand. “Ben, you deserve everything, especially honesty.”

Ben’s gaze is fixed on her, blue eyes wide and gorgeous, his voice coming out quiet as he says, “What do you mean, Devi?”

She takes one deep breath. Then another. Then another. 

“I like you, Ben.” She lets out a brittle laugh. “I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone, more than I ever knew I _could_ like anyone. I know you probably don’t feel the same way, not after I ran away from you. But you deserve the truth.”

Ben blinks several times as if he’s trying to take in what she just said as if he’s… buffering, and Devi doesn’t think she’s ever been more scared in her life. 

So as usual, she covers it up with a little quip. “I know you don’t have many brain cells, Gross, but I kind of need an answer here.”

“Devi…” The way he says her name is soft and delicate, like he’s planning on letting her down easy.

“I know, I’m being stupid, you deserve better than someone like me and I wouldn’t blame you if you never want to speak to me again and—”

“Devi,” Ben repeats, his tone infused with the same softness as before. “Would you just…?” he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Would you let me speak?”

Devi forces a jerky nod as she feels a steadily growing pain on the left side of her chest, where she knows her heart is. 

“Devi.” He sighs and his eyes are still on her, but his expression shifts to something unmistakably fond. “Not like you?” He laughs wryly. 

“I like you so, so much. I told you exactly how I felt about you the night of my party and nothing has changed.” He moves his free hand to cup her cheek and Devi feels her heart thudding against her chest. “It couldn’t.”

Devi blinks a few times and she’s tempted to do something stupid, like pinch herself to see if she’s dreaming. “You like me?”

Ben nods. “I do.” He sounds more self-assured, more confident, and Devi feels a grin break out over her face.

He steps towards her and Devi feels her heart thundering against her chest, as if it might burst out of her. She steps back hesitantly and her voice comes out quiet and small. “What are you doing?”

Ben’s soft smile makes the blue of his eyes glimmer. “Would you just stand still?”

Devi stills, then suddenly, Ben’s cradling her face in his hands, ducking his head, and kissing her. It’s soft and tender until she pulls him closer and begins to kiss him back. Any rationalization she made that her previous kiss with Ben was fantastic but fleeting and any subsequent kiss wouldn’t be as good, flies out the window. The increased certainty, sealed with a confession, makes this kiss better than the previous. They kiss as though they are the moon and the tides, constant pushing and pulling of two sucked into one another’s gravity.

Devi draws back from Ben fiddling with the hem of his — no, _her_ — hoodie. She glances up at him nervously, biting her lip. “I have a question for you.”

Ben hums, his thumb tracing circles on her cheek.

“How much did this sweater cost you anyway?”

Ben chuckles and it makes Devi’s stomach warm and fluttery. “David, you know it’s rude to ask how much a gift costs.”

She bats her eyelashes hoping to change Ben’s mind, but his expression instead morphs into a sly smirk. “Fine,” Devi scoffs, “I’ll just look up the price myself.”

Ben arches an eyebrow at her and wraps his arms around her waist. “Do you even know what the product is?”

Devi snorts and cocks her head. “You brag about your sweaters enough for me to know it’s Balenciaga.”

She slips her phone out of her pocket and searches up the brand. She notices the price and feels her eyes widen, almost comically.

“800 dollars!” She wacks his chest with the back of her palm. “Are you serious, Ben?” 

When his only response is to smile wider and to tighten his arms around her waist, Devi scowls, but it’s a pretense. She feels nothing but endeared, endeared, endeared, endlessly fond.

* * *

Devi contemplates not wearing the sweater often, for fear of ruining it, but can’t quite resist how much it smells like Ben, an intoxicating aroma of sandalwood and spice.

As she throws the sweatshirt over her head, she thinks she’s gonna hold anything he gives her close.

(Especially his hoodie and his heart.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you caught my not so subtle The Good Place reference kudos to you!


End file.
